


Too tight

by agentcalliope



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Embarrassment, F/M, Funny, Gen, Humor, Love at First Sight, Well - Freeform, best friend Daisy Johnson, jk, not really - Freeform, or read?, soon to be shipper daisy, youll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz is just waiting outside Daisy's empty dressing room, waiting for his best friend to come back when he has an interesting encounter with the woman in another dressing room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [welldonefitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/welldonefitz/gifts).



* * *

Daisy Johnson is, without a _doubt,_ his best friend in the world- but as he’s struggling under the massive and increasing number of dresses that she’s throwing over the door of her changing room, Fitz’s seriously reconsidering it.

 

He hears ruffling on the other side and within a moment a shirt is flung over without so much as a murmur, and he barely grabs before it touches the ground.

“Daisy.”

 

No response as a pair of pants cascades into his arms, and he sighs loudly as he shifts the bouquet of clothes trying to find a comfortable stance.

 

“ _Daisy._ ” The door swings open and _thankfully_ she’s wearing the outfit they came in, and for a instant Fitz is relieved that she’s finally finished and they can move on.

Until she looks at him with that gleam in her eyes and he groans.

 

“Oh shush,” Daisy playfully scolds him, grabbing a dress from the hanger and scooting past him to head out into the store. “I’m almost done I promise! I just need to get this dress in another color- maybe _Desert Rose_? you know, to 'match my complexion'?”

Fitz groans again.

She’s already gone, but he can hear her laughing and calling back to him to hold her dressing room, and suddenly he realizes that he’s just standing in a near empty hall with dressing rooms lined up against the walls, and a colossal pile of women’s clothes in his arms.

 

Fitz decides that he might as well hang them up and fold them as he waits for Daisy, which might be as long as two minutes to twenty.

 

He _almost_ groans for a third time.

 

But there’s actually something therapeutic about folding and the arranging, Fitz supposes, as he meticulously soothes the creases of a dress.

Maybe Daisy can take her time after all.

 

As if he's cursed by the bloody cosmos itself, the door next to Daisy’s room throws open with a bang, and he turns only to see a pair of arms sticking straight up, a shirt covering the woman’s neck and face and clad in nothing but a bra.

 

_Daisy come back Daisy come back please right now DAISY._

 

“Excuse me,” the woman says in a muffled calm voice as she inches towards him-

Which is surprising, really. She can’t possibly know where he is, and yet this _blinded half-naked woman_ is coming towards him and he should really say _something_ but his words just catch in his throat and he's sure his face is crimson.

 

Fitz wonders that if he stands very still and doesn’t make a sound that she might think no one’s there.

 

 

It doesn’t work.

 

She huffs and he swears that if it wasn’t for the shirt blocking her eyes she would be giving him a death glare that would equal to Aunt May’s. And that says _a lot_.

“Please. I can _hear_ you breathing.”

 

Fitz freezes, sucking in a breath and hoping that's all she could hear- not the shifting of his feet, and _definitely_ not the rapid pace of his heartbeat.

 

“Um…” his voice cracks and he clears his throat before he continues. “What… can I help you?”

 

It’s ridiculous because she can’t see him and she wouldn't know if he looked at her but he feels the need to turn around and face the wall, warmth rushing to his cheeks and burning his ears.

 

“I don’t know. _Can_ you help me?” She’s mocking him now, lowering her voice in a silly attempt to match his, even rearranging her English vowels to comply with his accent.

 

The _nerve._

 

He whips his head to face her, but he keeps his eyes on the collar of the purple shirt that encompasses her head to avoid looking _below_.

“Well I’ve never had a woman wearing her shirt on her head ask me for help before!”

 

She chuckles and sarcastically replies. “Aw, never had a woman take her shirt off in front of you?”

 

He chokes at her words, and he wonders if her arms weren’t restrained by her shirt whether they would be on her hips.

 

She immediately begins to laugh, as he sputters like a fool and he feels stupid but he stomps his foot in a childish manner when he can't think of any comebacks.

 

“You know what then? Fine. I’ll just leave-” He spits out, and shuffles to the exit, interrupted when the laughter dies down and a strained “Wait!” emerges from the sweater.

 

There may or may not be a crooked smile beginning to appear on his face - not that she would ever know.

 

“Wait,” She pleads when just seconds ago she was taunting.

 

He waits.

 

“... can you please help me out of this jumper.”

 

He knows he’s going to have to, but that doesn’t mean he can’t tease her back.

“I don’t know. _Can_ I?”

  
She groans and he can’t help but laugh and move back towards her.

**Author's Note:**

> saw this on tumblr and was immediately hooked “you tried on a shirt that was too small in the store i work the changing rooms at and i had to help you out of it and now we’re making small talk" au


End file.
